


Suite Française

by Lelachen



Category: Pandora Hearts
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Cigarettes, Fluff, I couldnt help myself, Its the film suite francaise but with elleo, M/M, Multi, War
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-20
Updated: 2019-04-18
Packaged: 2019-07-14 22:24:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16049798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lelachen/pseuds/Lelachen
Summary: The unfortunate love story between the French Leo Baskerville, and German Lieutenant Elliot Nightray.After Leo, and his mother-in-law Madame Lacie Baskerville, are given a German Lieutenant to stay with them, forbidden love between Leo and Elliot begins to blossom.In other words: the amazing film (and book) Suite Française as an Elleo fanfic.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> In this AU, I will pretend that same sex marriages/relationships were seen as completely normal in the 1940s.

**PROLOGUE**

 

BUSSY, CENTRAL FRANCE, JUNE 10TH 1940

 

_ “It began with a storm in June. _

_ In the days before, the German bombs had fallen on the outskirts of Paris for the first time. Terrified people were fleeing the city any way they could. But deep in the countryside the war still felt far away, and I remained preoccupied with the one I was already fighting much closer to home.” _

 

Leo had woken up quite suddenly that morning, not having slept very well the night before. He pulled himself out of the bed, his blanket still tightly clinging around his waist until eventually dropping to the floor. Yanking a shirt over his head, and taking a glimpse out the window, he could see his Mother-in-Law, Madame Lacie Baskerville, leaving the building. 

Leo took this as an opportunity to play on his Father’s piano, which had been sitting untouched in his husband’s office until then. The opportunity had been quite a rare one since the beginning of the war, seeing as Leo’s mother in law had forbidden any music from being played in the house until her son’s return from battle.

The music was, however, very quickly interrupted. 

“Not dressed yet?” Madam Baskerville walked into the room, her tone of voice unimpressed. “We’ll be late.”

“Do you really think we should go out today?” Leo removed his hands from the ivories and lowered the instruments lid, with the utmost care. 

“Why ever not?”

Other than with a small side glance her way, the question was left unanswered, and Leo silently left the small office. 

 

***

 

Leo’s mother-in-law refused to accept the prospect of defeat, even with the first group of Parisian refugees arriving in their small town. 

Three years prior, Leo (at the insistence of his father) had moved to Bussy and married Madame Baskerville’s precious son, Oz. With him away fighting in the war, Madame thought it best that Leo should learn how to run Oz’s properties. 

And now, like every month, they visited their tenants, on a Sunday, because Madame knew the farmers would be home. As they arrived at their first lot, Madame told Leo to be silent, because according to her, “that way, you see how they really live!” Madame Baskerville liked to catch them out, and Leo despised every minute of it. 

Ignoring his mother-in-law’s instructions, Leo stepped out of the car and shut the door with a loud thud, surely alerting the tenants inside of their arrival, much to Madame Baskerville’s dismay. 

They stepped inside the home, and sat at the cleared table. Proceeding with small talk, the tenants (although in a subtle manner) made it clear they were unable to pay rent that month. Madame noted this down, with clear irritation in her action and an unsympathetic frown on her face. She left the house as quickly as she had entered it, dragging Leo along behind her. 

Leo soon found himself once again sitting in the passenger seat of Madame Baskerville’s car, eyes drifting over the large green landscapes surrounding them, while Madame droned on and on about their tenants.

Leo found his gaze soon latching onto another car on the road, parallel to theirs, which seemed to be coming closer at an unmeasurable speed.  

“STOP!” Leo managed a small yelp out of his throat. “Stop the car!”. 

The car that had been metres away only a few moments ago, had now been only a hair’s length away from colliding with theirs. Still in slight shock, Leo suggested they return home. 

Madame refused, and so they drove on, journeying to the next lot in the same silence as they had before. 

 

***

 

After collecting four more rents, as well as buying some potatoes from Sharon and Xerxes on the way, the two began their drive home.

It was only four minutes of driving before they came across the now crowd-filled roads of the Bussy countryside. Madame was in disbelief, as she attempted to get her car through the swarm of worn-out people, carrying what was left of their belongings in whatever way they could. 

She stopped the car to a halt and instructed her son-in-law to step out the car and see for how long the queue of people went on for.

Wandering through the crowd, Leo began to see a small shape in the distance. Looking up, and squinting his eyes, the shape began to reveal itself as a plane. The distance between the people and the plane shrunk, and soon one shape became two, two became three, and before he knew it  _ five  _ bomber-planes dipped towards the ground, unloading their cargo onto the crowds below.  

The crowds dispersed into the surrounding fields, dropping to the floor in hopes of cover. Their choir of desperate screams was only barely blanketed, by the deafening hum of the planes above. Explosion after explosion engulfed the area around them, destroying anything they happened to touch.

They ended quite suddenly, however, and Leo found himself rising up from the ground, unharmed. He looked around him, and as the ringing in his ear seized and the smoke cleared, they revealed the muffled tones of the terrified people trying to regroup with their families, and the dead bodies of those unable to get cover soon enough. 

Leo found himself overwhelmed by the destruction surrounding him, but nevertheless attempted to rush back to the car, where Madam Baskerville was already angrily waiting for him. 

They drove back into town, Leo looked around him, seeing the hundreds of displaced women and children of Paris, that had now found themselves in Bussy, looking for food and shelter, escaping the bombs and destruction. 

‘So this was war..’ He thought, but it was interrupted by the sound of yet another plane soaring in the skies above them. The town took cover, but to their surprise and slight confusion, bombs were not what was dropped this time. No, rather, it was paper:

 

**_“Abandoned people, trust the German soldier!”_ **

 

Before long, rumours began to spread, that a German regiment was due to arrive in Bussy. And so, Leo found himself in Oz’s office, clearing away his husband’s belongings, leaving only the bare essentials for the soldier who would surely be using very soon. 

 

As his mother-in-law said: “I would rather see his things burn, than in the hands of one of  _ their _ soldiers.”

  
  



	2. Chapter 2

 

It had only been a week, but sitting in the Church that dull Sunday morning, Leo could already sense that things were about to get much worse. It seemed he was correct, because not even before the priest could finish his prayers, Leo could already hear the steady rumbling of cars and footsteps slowly coming closer. 

“They’re here already!” Leo turned to Madame sitting next to him, in a terrified whisper. 

Leo could feel himself tearing up just from the thought, desperately clinging on to the small bible in his hands, looking down, and then hurriedly tracing his mother-in-law’s rushed footsteps out of the Church building. 

The ground was shaking now, the rhythmic vibrations of marching soldiers becoming more prominent by the second. As the people of Bussy stepped into the town’s centre, what they were hearing was only confirmed. The quaint streets of the town, were now being completely consumed by the bulky cars, motorcycles and monstrous tanks of German soldiers. 

The locals gathered ‘round, staring in horror, as what seemed to be a Lieutenant of theirs, stood himself on a car and projected his voice through a megaphone:

 

“You are defeated,” the man proclaimed, “and we are now in charge!”

 

The soldiers were already getting comfortable, a small group to Leo’s right taking out their cigarettes and getting whatever frenchmen were in front of them to light it for them. 

Leo could feel any strength he may have had leaving his body.  His hands were shaking, his vision blurred by the tears in his eyes, and in a desperate cry for reassurance, he asked Madame: “How long will they be?”. 

“Don’t know,” she replied, looking over at a soldier changing the hands on the town’s clock, and continued, “but I’m damned if I’m living by German time.”

Madame turned and walked away in silent disgust, Leo following swiftly. 

 

***

 

They had been assigned an officer, and were now awaiting his arrival, sitting still until they heard a sound by the door.  

 

“We don’t look at him. We don’t speak to him.” Madame ordered, in a hushed tone. 

 

There were three distinct knocks on the door, and the moment both of them were dreading had arrived. Madame did not get up, waiting instead for her housekeeper to get the door. When she did, Madame rose up from her chair, keeping her chin up as she did so, and strode towards the manor’s entrance to meet the man that would be staying in their home, uninvited. 

The man in question took this as an opportunity to introduce himself, “Madame Baskerville,” he began, his voice carrying a cautious tone to it, “I am Oberleutnant, Elliot Nightray. You have been told to expect me.” It was a statement, but he voiced more like one would voice a question. He caught a glimpse of Leo, standing quietly in the next room, and nodded his head in acknowledgement, greeting him with a prompt:“Monsieur.” Then, he carried on, making a promise of trying not to be an inconvenience, before stating that he would only require a room and a place to work. 

Madame wanted to reply, with a confident “yes.”, as to not show fear. However, the sound refused to leave her mouth, and she only mouthed the word instead. The officer took this as a sign of acknowledgement, stepped forward to change the time of the grandfather clock sitting in the corner of the hallway (which left a vexed expression on Madame’s visage), and then continued upstairs. 

Following the officer inside, immediately after, came another soldier carrying the Lieutenant’s belongings, as well as a dog. 

“They didn’t say anything about a dog!” Madame turned to her son-in-law, and walked away with irritation.

 

***

 

Later that night, Madame and Leo sat at the dinner table, their grace inconveniently accompanied by the sound of sirens outside, to alert the people in this newly German territory of curfew. The sirens hushed, and the duo began to eat their meal. No words were spoken, and silence consumed the room, until it was interrupted by banging noises coming upstairs. Both Leo and Madame looked up at the shaking chandelier that clung to the ceiling, and then listened to the patter of footsteps travelling down the staircase. 

This noise was followed by the Lieutenant’s form appearing at the dining room’s entrance, and a small knock on its door.

“Madame,” he began, “may I kindly request the key to the piano and the desk?” When he was met with silence, he spoke again, “I give you my word, that they will be treated with the utmost care.”

He was once again, met with silence, but before he could phrase another sentence, Madame told him the housekeeper would give him the key, avoiding any and all eye contact, while keeping her posture straight and her head held high. She waited for him to leave, before turning to Leo, “He’ll be playing  _  Deutschland  _ _ ü _ _ ber Alles  _ before we know it.”

As Leo prepared for bed that night, he heard the sound of the piano being unlocked next door, followed by the most beautiful, unfamiliar sound.  It intrigued him, but not quite enough to get up and take a closer look. 

 

 

***

 

A few days later, Leo’s mother-in-law had asked him to buy groceries from town, and so he did. 

He stepped outside the store, only to be met with the image of the entire town centre being crowded with casual German soldiers, washing, smoking, drinking, mingling with the younger french women in town. Leo walked past, trying to ignore them, avoiding eye contact as he fixed his gaze on the stone-tiled pathway. 

As he continued to walk on, he heard the familiar voice of the man staying in his home, “Can I carry those back for you?” 

Leo ignored the man, looked straight ahead, and continued walking. “I’m going that way anyway.” He was ignored again, “You  _ could _ say ‘no thank you’.” Leo showed no interest in replying to any of what was said, steadily walking on as before; not looking back. 

Returning home, however, Leo began to regret his reluctance to accept the offer. Looking at the redness of his tender hands, he realised that the offer may have been beneficial. He had placed the bags on the table, only for his mother-in-law to walk over and state: “Those aren’t for in here.”

It had turned out, that with the defeat, Madame Baskerville had begun to hoard the food they could afford, rather than sharing it with the many others in town that could no longer afford to pay for their daily meals. 

 

***

 

The next day, Leo had decided to visit one of his closest friends living in town, indirectly sharing the discovery he made the day before and handing Sharon a bundle of food.

“This is for you.” He said, and followed Sharon into the home as she took the gift. 

They sat at the table, Sharon pouring Leo a glass of water, and began a small conversation. The pleasant exchange was soon interrupted, however, as a man in a familiar uniform appeared in the distance. 

Leo got up from his seat, both him and Sharon now on their feet. He did not knock. Rather, he simply walked in, looking at Sharon with interest.

“Can we help you?” Leo spoke up.

The soldier took of his cap, “Madame,” he began, “there has been a change of plans. I have been billeted with you.”

Sharon looked up in shock, and her eyes follow in suspicion as the German began to walk further into her home. “I apologise for the inconvenience.” he finished.

“But they said that we were too far from the village to have anyone.” 

“I was surprised myself. I was staying at the chateau.”

“You’re an officer.” Sharon argued desperately, like anyone else, she dreaded the thought of having one of the soldiers that had invaded her country stay with her in her own home.

“A Lieutenant.” The man corrected.

“But this is just a farmhouse. The rooms won’t be good enough.” Sharon was rushing through her words now, going through every possible excuse she could muster for the German not to stay with her, “We haven’t even got any running water-” Her attempts were, nevertheless, pointless, as the German hushed her and continued waltzing through her small farmhouse as though he owned it. 

“You needn’t worry about me,” he reassured her, although something about his tone of voice only terrified Sharon more. “This will do nicely.” 

The Lieutenant took one more close look at Sharon’s fearful guise, manifested a tiny fake smile, and sat down comfortably in the nearest chair. 

 

***

  
  


That night, reflecting on the day’s events, Leo found his mind wandering off to thoughts about the Lieutenant staying in a room only a few doors down from his. And as he did so, he could once again hear the playing of his father’s piano in the office next door. 

Like every night, the Lieutenant played, and like every night, Leo listened. Always the same, unfamiliar music. He was entranced by the sound, hypnotised almost, as he lifted himself off the chair he had been sitting on and silently drifted towards the office door; peeking through the the keyhole, trying to catch a glimpse of the man playing.

Leo knew he was supposed to hate this man, but something about his presence brought on a sense of relief. After the months of desolate silence, the mere existence of sound coming from the room next-door to his brought with it a small amount of unexpected happiness. 

Yet this moment was quickly interrupted by the sounds of curfew being announced outside. 

And so, Leo walked away from the door and back to where he had been sitting, switched off the light, and went to bed. 

 

***

 

The next day was a sunny one, and Leo took this opportunity to sit outside in the garden, while attempting to write a letter to his husband off at war. Sharon had told him that, even if he wouldn’t be able to send it to him, it might at the very least make Leo feel a bit better, and so he took her advice. 

It was proving to be a more difficult task than said, and Leo turned out scrunching up the paper quite quickly, having not even finished one sentence. He was about to start again, pen hovering over the next page as he began to think of something to write onto it, but his thoughts were interrupted by the sound of barking, and the German Lieutenant’s dog running past him.

The dog’s owner followed after, “Sorry to disturb you,” he excused himself, flustered. But Leo only looked down, avoiding any and all eye contact. 

“The dog isn’t mine,” the German continued, “We found him in an abandoned village. At least he’s a frenchman.” To that, Leo lowered his head further, in an attempt to hide the tiny grin threatening to form on his face. 

“May I?” The Lieutenant lifted up a cigarette, asking for approval. Leo turned his head in the man’s direction, offering a small nod. The expression was almost missed but it was enough for the Lieutenant to light his cigarette and take a drag. In an attempt to further the (what could barely be called) conversation, he addressed Leo once more: 

“Your house is beautiful, monsieur.”

“It isn’t mine.” Leo continued to look down at the blank piece of paper sitting in his lap, “It’s my mother-in-law’s.”

“The piano is yours, I imagine.”

To this, Leo looked in the speakers direction, “What makes you say that?”

The German took another drag from his cigarette, and offered a smile as he said, “I don’t believe your mother-in-law is a music lover.”

This time, Leo found it very difficult to hold back a smile, and let out the tiniest, breathy snigger. “My father gave that piano to me,” Leo informed the Lieutenant, carrying a sad smile on his face.

“Do you play?”

“I do.” he paused, “But Madame doesn’t want any music in the house, until my husband is home to hear it.”

The German took a seat next to Leo, “Do you mind if I sit?”

Leo ignored the question, choosing, rather, to ask his own: “The piece you keep playing: I don’t recognise it.”

“You wouldn’t.”

“I have studied music, you know.” Leo defended.

“Not this.”

“You wrote it?”

“I was a composer, before the war, when I first got married.”

“You’re married?”

“I’ve been married four years. And a soldier, for four years.”

“She must miss you,” Leo offered an unsympathetic glance in the man’s direction. 

“No.” he replied, “not really, not anymore.”

Leo was about to reply, only to notice his mother-in-law furiously tapping the window from inside. He took this as a sign to leave, and got up without saying a word. He walked back inside, the house seemed to be empty. 

He decided to make his way back upstairs, but noticed that the office, which now belonged to the German, had its door ajar. He made his way inside, and moved towards his father’s piano, taking a glimpse out of the window next to it, which gave him view to the German currently preoccupied with trying to train his new dog. 

Looking at his surroundings, he could see a small pile of sheet music on the side of the desk. A few of them seemed to be handwritten, and unfinished.  He traced his finger over the notes occupying the top of the page, the sounds of them echoing in the back off his mind. He found himself caught on the melody, repeatedly reading those first twelve bars over and over. 

He was so lost in the composition, in fact, that he almost did not notice the Lieutenant making his way up the stairs, and Leo probably wouldn’t have if the German’s pet didn’t run into the office ahead of him. 

Leo stowed the page of music he had taken out, back into the pile it came from. Hurriedly, he buried it under the number of other pieces of paper work, just before the German walked in, and then taking a worried step back as he did. 

“What are you doing here?”, it was more of a demand than a question.

“I thought I’d left something.” Leo offered an excuse, though it did not help him much.

“So, you come in without asking?”, Leo couldn’t muster the courage to reply, “I can’t hear you!”, the Lieutenant’s tone grew more aggressive.

“I’m sorry.” Leo managed to drag a small apology out of the back of his throat, making his reply sound hushed, as his voice cracked slightly.

The Lieutenant picked on of the many notes, stacked on top of eachother on his desk, “Did you look at any of these?”

“No.” Leo breathed out.

“No?”

“No, I promise.”

“Read one.” The German ordered, and seeing the hesitation in Leo’s movement, repeated his instructions “Read one.”

Leo took the paper from the man opposite him, “Out Loud,” the Lieutenant told him, “Out loud.”

“To whom it may concern, Monsieur Blanc is a married father of five children. For several months he has had-” Leo stopped reading, choking on his words, and looking up at the Lieutenant in a silent request to not continue; judging by the expression he got in return, Leo read on, “-sexual relations with a young woman, half his age. He should be charged with public indecency.”

The Lieutenant now picked up a pile of notes himself, “Monsieur DuBois is trading food on the black market. Monsieur Yura is a communist and a liar. A Refugee at mass pretends to be a Catholic, when she really is a dirty Jew.” He throws the papers back onto the desk.

“What are they?”

“They are from your neighbours, they were waiting for us at the town hall when we arrived.”

“They’re gossip, nothing more. Just people settling old scores. They should be burnt!”

“If I had my way, they would. My major has ordered me,” he took a seat, “it’s my job to read them. You can go.” And dismissed Leo, “you can go.”

Leo left the room quietly, still shaking from what had just happened, and left the Lieutenant to sit in his office alone. 

Taking a closer look at his desk, Elliot realised that one piece of paper seemed to be sticking out of its usually organised pile, he took it out to inspect it, only to realise it was the first page of his composition.   
  
  



	3. Chapter 3

 

“You know, sometimes I wonder why you ever bothered to marry him.” Madame's tone of voice was tainted with sarcasm.

The two of them sat at the dinner table, under the chandelier, with the curtains closed and an extra plate set up for Leo’s missing husband; just like every other night. But from Madame’s question alone, the bad feeling in the pit of Leo’s stomach, which had lingered there for quite a while now, only grew more painful.

He looked up in disbelief, almost as a silent cry for this conversation not to happen, but his mother-in-law continued.

“Was it the land? Your father lost all of his so he sent you looking for someone else’s.”

“No,” Leo couldn’t bring himself to raise his voice to anything above a whisper, barely having the energy to speak up,“he was dying.” He paused, thinking about his next words carefully before continuing. His sharp gaze fell on the floor, despite his intentions of directing it at his mother-in-law. “And wanted to find me a good man-”

“A _rich_ man.” Madame corrected.

There was silence, and Leo lay down his cutlery, recognising that Madame was not going to allow him to avoid this conversation. Eyebrows pinched together, he lifted his glare from the floor, shooting it at the woman sitting with him, his words gaining more of an edge with every breath; he swallowed thickly, an attempt to suppress his current frustration, and then spoke up. “What have I done?”

With an undecipherable look in her eye, Madame did nothing but stare at the man sitting with her for a short-while, before continuing with her interrogation.

“I see everything that goes on in his house.”

A sudden realisation hit him, and Leo made on last attempt at ending the torture he was being put through: “He only asked if he could go in the garden.”

“Why didn’t you get up and leave, like you should’ve?” Madame’s tone of voice was slowly growing sharper, her attitude becoming more prominent as each word left her mouth.

“Do you expect me to be confined to my bedroom for the rest of my life-”

Madame left little room for debate, “I expect you to be faithful to your husband.”

“I am!” His fingers were itching towards the glass of wine opposite him.

“Really? Then how can you speak, how can _you,_ of all people, even _breathe_ , when you know that your husband has been hunted down by these animals; just like the one right upstairs?” Madame’s eyes began to tear up a little at the thought of her son; her precious, only son. Leo’s mother-in-law felt her throat closing up, yet she forced the words out of her mouth “You know, every time I see them,” she paused, swallowing the lump in her throat before continuing, “I want to rip their eyes out.”

For a statement so violent, so _threatening_ , it sounded more as if coming from someone who was on the brink of breaking down, rather than someone fuelled with anger and rage, as one would expect.

Leo, despite still being filled with anger, dared himself to ask the question he sensed he did not want to know the answer to. “What has happened?”

Oz’s unit, is in a labour camp in Germany.” She paused to take a breath, then continued, ”Your husband, is now a prisoner of war. This- this vile   _creature_ living upstairs is our enemy, how could you forget that?”

“I have not _forgotten_ anything,” He raised his voice now, the immense guilt he felt now translating into pure and unlimited rage, “ I understand very well! Besides it’s not as if _you’re_ making any kind of _effort_ to defy them! What, you really think _silently looking away_ is going to accomplish anything?!”

“It’ll accomplish more than welcoming them with open arms, or offering yourself-”

At this Leo snapped, he couldn’t suppress his anger anymore. Lifting his hand, it made contact with the wine glass in front of him in a millisecond. Then came the high pitched cling of shattering glass, as the  dark-red substance within it began to bleed onto the bleached white fabric, covering the table. He knew he must have done something wrong, the dark feeling forever gathering in his stomach made him sure, “You dare accuse me, like some _criminal_ , simply for having a small, insignificant conversation. I have done nothing wrong.”

Not even Leo believed the words coming out of his mouth, it may have only been a few conversations, but Leo found himself constantly captivated by the German that had been sent to stay with them. And in all honesty, it worried him.

He looked around, the room was silent now. Madame just sat there, not daring to reply. Her face was cold, as if she knew there was no point in continuing this conversation.

“Good night.”

 

“Good night.”

 

*******

  


Later that evening, Leo gradually made his way up the stairs to his bedroom, every step being dragged down by the weight that seemed permanently stuck in his gut. He expected the events of earlier to get rid of the slight feeling of shame that had been lingering around him ever since his first glimpse at the Lieutenant, but it only worsened the feeling. Reaching his hand out, Leo was about to open the door to his bedroom, only to be stopped by a certain German.

“Monsieur,” he began, trying to sound as confident as one possibly could, in a situation like this.

“I’m not allowed to talk to you, you know that, don’t you?” Leo’s protests, which he meant to come across as hostile, left his mouth in what could almost be interpreted as a whisper. Nevertheless, Leo walked on. Yet, the German (feeling determined) followed, “I should’ve believed you. I think, this may be what you came into my room for.”

Leo looked at what the Lieutenant was offering him. It was a small box,  wrapped up with a pretty ribbon. He stared at the box for a while but eventually turned around, only by a little bit, and took it off the man in front of him, hiding his eyes behind his glasses in the process.

“I’m sorry.”

Leo ignored the apology and walked on. Shutting the door behind him, then sitting down next to his bed, Leo hesitantly decided to open the box he had received only a minute ago. Removing the ribbon with delicate movements, lifting the lid with greatest care and unfolding the tissue paper inside, Leo stared at the what the box contained: the melody which fascinated him so.

It was the first bar only, four beats; nothing more. Yet Leo found himself unable to look away from it the rest of the night, something told him this melody would be playing in his mind forever.  

The next day, Madame left the house, and as the Lieutenant retired to smoke in the garden, Leo had the entire house to himself. Having noticed the key to his father’s piano had been dropped into the Lieutenant’s coat pocket, which was hanging by the front door, Leo took the key for himself.

He made his way to the piano, unlocked it and spent the rest of that morning playing the bar he was gifted the night before, playing it over and over, until the notes were engraved into his fingertips; unbeknownst to him, creating a small smile on the face of the Lieutenant, standing below the office window.

 

*******

  


“I’m going to go swimming soon.” The Lieutenant walked over to Xerxes, taking a bite out of the apple in his hand, no regard for the starving people around him, and then tying up his long, blonde hair, “Can you swim?”

“The viscount doesn’t let the villagers swim in the lake.”

Vincent looked almost amused at the misinterpretation of his question, letting out a small, effortless laugh, “Sorry, I didn’t mean are you able- I meant with your injury, can you... What happened?”

“My horse fell. My leg was trapped.” Xerxes’ bitter tone was apparent to the Lieutenant, however it just made the situation more amusing for him.

“Otherwise, you would’ve joined the war, huh?”

“Yes. Yes, I would.”

On the other side of the front garden, the exchange grabbed Sharon’s attention, she was slightly suspicious of where this conversation would go, and she didn’t have a very good feeling about it.

“Nietzsche said,” Vincent went on, “a man shall be trained for war. Have you read Nietzsche?”, he nodded his head towards Xerxes in a belittling manner.

“He also said,” Vincent began to walk towards Sharon, “a woman is made for the recreation of the warrior, to _please_ the warrior.”

To this, Xerxes took the cigarette he had been smoking out of his mouth, and sent a disgusted look over to the Lieutenant. If looks could kill, Vincent would have been lying dead on the ground for a while now.

Vincent took another bite out of his apple, then leaned in close to Sharon’s ear. “His leg, did it happen before or after you were married?”

Sharon didn’t want to answer, but knew she had no choice, “After.”

Noticing a lavender flower lying on the ground, Vincent picked it up, placing it underneath his nose, “Beautiful scent, perhaps I could buy a bouquet for my bedroom. It’s so awfully depressing the way it is now.”

“Sharon,” Xerxes called, “we’ve got to bring the animals in.”

Sharon took this as an excuse to escape the situation she had found herself in, but as she got up and took a step to leave, Vincent grabbed her arm and turned her his way, “Hey, a vase by my bed, if that’s no trouble.”

Sharon didn’t reply, only taking back her arm out of his grasp and walking off in small steps.

  


*******

 

Returning home later that evening, Leo was informed by their housekeeper that they had a guest.

 

“Xerxes.” Leo walked into the dining room with a smile, feeling relief from finally seeing a face that wasn’t going to cause him inner turmoil, though as he walked closer and saw the look on his face, Leo’s expression turned into one of concern. The housekeeper sat herself down, opposite Xerxes. “Why don’t you tell them why you’re here?”

“That German in my home, he keeps chasing after Sharon. I can’t do much about it myself, but the officer that lives here, he could put pressure on him.”

“We don’t talk.”

“That’s not what I’ve heard. Listen, I don’t want to criticise you, do what you like. But I want that asshole out of my home.”

 

Not ten minutes later, Leo came into the room with Elliot next to him.

“I’ve heard you have a complaint about a German soldier,” Elliot began, “I apologise.”

“Are you going to do something about it?” Xerxes asked.

“We are of equal rank. Therefore I have no official influence over him or his actions.”

“So you Germans can just do whatever the hell you feel like?” Something sinister was peaking under from his tone of voice.

Elliot stood firm, getting slightly agitated, “That isn’t what I said, neither is it what I meant.”

“We’ve already lost the war, we don’t have to lose our women as well!”

“Then perhaps you should have thought of protecting them before it was too late!”, Elliot spoke up one last time to indicate that this conversation was over, however Leo stopped him before the Lieutenant could walk away. He looked up at Elliot, without a word.

Elliot sighed, swallowing his pride. “Fine, I will try. But it may only worsen your situation.”

 

With that, the housekeeper lead Xerxes to the front door, leaving Leo and Elliot alone. For a while there was complete silence, Leo looked at the table, moving forward to collect the porcelain plates, and few pieces of cutlery lying around. In the meantime, Elliot just threw his gaze randomly across the room. But eventually, Elliot built up the courage to speak.

“You know, my regiment could leave at any time. I couldn’t stand the idea of you hating me.”

Leo looked up, “I don’t hate you.”, he moved into the next room to put away the plates he now held in his arms.

“Then invite me for tea.”

“There isn’t any left, your men took it all remember?”

“Wine then. I’ll talk to Vincent, but in return, I would like to ask that we be decent to one another.”

“My mother-in-law would kick me out, then where would I go?”

“She has Church tonight doesn’t’ she? She won’t return for another half-hour- just one drink.”

Leo turned to him, with a small smile on his face:

“Fine, one drink.”

  



	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! First, thank you @i-write-hurt-not-comfort for proof reading this for me, you've really helped me thank you so much!
> 
> Second, the song mentioned in this chapter is Parlez-moi d'Amour by Lucienne Boyer.
> 
> Link to the song (if you wanna listen to it) is here:  
> https://youtu.be/rIAQWr34De0

 

Conversation between them developed at an alarmingly slow rate. It was by no means awkward, although it probably should have been. They never  _ once  _ broke eye contact, yet both sat easy in their chairs. From an observer’s point of view, the scene seemed like a conversation in every means of the word other than any actual verbal conversing. 

Despite how secretly eager Leo had been to learn anything and everything about the man in front of him, for the past month, he found himself struggling to let the questions circling his mind leave his mouth. There were many things he wanted to know about the man he had become so intrigued by. He knew the German was a musician, and quite obviously a soldier, as well as that he had been married (to a wife who apparently no longer missed him); at first, that information was sufficient. However, now, Leo wanted to know more. He began to wonder about many things, some were trivial: What was his favourite drink? Favourite colour? Did he have any siblings?

Some things were less trivial, questions which almost haunted Leo: Did he feel lonely being so far away from home? What on Earth motivated him to take the position he currently had in the military? What kind of things had he seen during his time at war?

Although initially his lips were sealed, he slowly built up the courage to interrupt the comfortable silence that had surrounded them for a while now. 

“You said you were a composer before the war, so how did you become a soldier?” Leo peaked up at the German, now lighting a cigarette, through the top rims of his glasses.

“My family is from quite a respected military background. It isn’t as though I was forced, but I didn’t exactly have much of a choice, either. It wasn’t too difficult for me to live up to their expectations, though. I guess something in me did want to fight, that I cannot deny.” With that the Lieutenant gave a small laugh, which became more of a huff as the smoke escaped his nostrils in faint clouds dispersing in front of his face. 

It turned out Elliot’s small chuckle was contagious, as Leo found his own mouth curl slightly upwards into a tiny smile. His previous expression soon returned, however, as he brought up the topic which had been an elephant in the room for quite a while.

“So what do you think about it?”

“About what?”

“The war.”

Elliot went to open his mouth and speak, but rather paused to think carefully about the question he had been presented with. The look on his face was one of content; it was obvious that Elliot was one of the many men who had just come to terms with the fact that the entire world had descended into chaos. 

“I am not in favor of it, per se. However,” he looked up, in almost a fragile manner, “I think it does really bring a nation together.”

“Is that why you’re fighting, why you’re still here? For your country.”

The Lieutenant only laughed. Leo felt as though he should be offended, but he found himself genuinely curious of the German’s answer to his question.

“As I said, I didn’t have too much of a choice in the matter, but essentially, yes.” He paused shortly, “Well at first, not to say it’s no longer a factor, just now… my motivations may have dwindled slightly.”

“Dwindled, hm?” Leo sent him a small smirk. 

Elliot sat back, biting his bottom lip to restrain the grin trying to occupy his face. He tapped his foot a few times, Leo noticed his head pointing towards his right side.

The Lieutenant rose from his seat, setting his cigarette down upon the small octagonal plate in the table’s centre, and wandered to the record player he had spotted in the corner of the room. There seemed to already be a record lying on the turntable, so he simply lifted the tonearm and gently laid it down onto the record.

Elliot turned towards Leo, who only gazed up at him innocently, eyes wide. He reached out his hand, and Leo’s slid into its grasp with ease. He leant the side of his head on top of Elliot’s shoulder. It felt soft and welcoming. As if on queue, the German hugged Leo closer to him, voiding any distance which had lingered between them before. 

 

_ Parlez-moi d'amour _

_ Redites-moi des choses tendres. _

 

Leo’s eyelids softly dropped. The notes of the piano drifted into his ears. He recognised this sensation as the same soothing feeling he got when listening to light drops of rain pattering against the window. He slowly lost himself in the melody, and with the singer’s mellow voice came an almost nostalgic feeling of happiness. 

 

_ Votre beau discours _

 

Leo hadn’t felt at peace like this for a very long time. Elliot’s gentle breath passing the tip of his ear told Leo this notion was shared.

 

_ Mon cœur n'est pas las de l'entendre, pourvu que toujours _

 

Elliot leaned his head forward a little further, his mouth now in contact with Leo’s left ear. Despite the closeness of the man in front of him, Leo almost missed his words.

_  
_ _ Vous répétiez ces mots suprêmes: _

 

**“I love you.”**

 

_ “Je vous aime.” _

 

Leo didn’t think to reply. He only smiled, attempting to fight back the tears forming in his eyes. If it was even possible, Leo pushed his form further towards Elliot, and in return the German’s grip on Leo’s waist tightened. 

 

_ Vous savez bien _

_ Que dans le fond je n'en crois rien _

 

As the pace of the song picked up a bit, the pair delicately span across the dining room floor. Feet barely touched the ground, their steps the equivalent of feathers in the wind. 

 

_ Mais cependant je veux encore _ _  
_ _ Écouter ce mot que j'adore _

 

Though Leo hoped he could hear those words again, both remained silent for the rest of the song. Or at least what they were able to hear of it. Because just as Elliot dipped Leo towards the floor, leaning in to his face slowly, they heard the crunching of gravel in front of the manor. 

Leo escaped the German’s grasp and charged towards the window, slightly parting the lace curtains to see his mother-in-law returning. He turned to tell Elliot, but considering he had stopped the music it was clear he understood the situation.

The sound of the front door opening invaded the house, and with it Leo grabbed the Lieutenant’s hand sprinting into the gardens. Once they were safe, Leo found the German’s hands on his waist once again, lifting him into the air and twirling as they rejoiced in small giggles. 

Grounded once more, Elliot leaned his forehead on that of Leo. 

“Gute Nacht.” A hushed farewell escaped his grin. 

“Good night to you too.” With a tiny smile on his face, Leo walked back into the manor, leaving the German standing out in the garden. 

 

Elliot once again, found himself dreadfully cold and alone.

  
  


***

 

Meanwhile, Xerxes had suddenly found himself in a dangerous situation. 

He had meant to just stay at home - he really had. However, as he walked past what seemed to be where the Germans stored all their party-foods and alcohol (featuring a piece of meat which was just  _ begging _ to be stolen by him) on the way back from the Baskerville’s manor, there was a change of plans. He knew he could get caught, but if it meant his family having a little  _ more _ food and those Germans having a little  _ less _ , he didn’t care so much.

The window was wide open, and the kitchen seemed empty. Nevertheless, he stayed cautious. He was glad he decided to bring his rifle with him after all, considering - in this situation - he might actually need it. Sneaking out of his own home, while hiding the weapon and himself from his would-be disapproving wife, had been quite difficult. Somehow, though, he had managed. 

Now he was here, throwing his rifle through an open window. Getting himself in, however, was clearly going to be more difficult. With both hands fixed on the window sill, he pulled his upper body over the wooden barrier. He leaned forward slightly, attempted to bend his leg just enough so he could pivot himself through the gap, and then pushed himself through. 

Pathetically lying on the ground, Xerxes more closely observed his surroundings. Picking up his rifle and dusting himself off, he rose to his feet in silence. 

Right in the room’s centre stood a squared table, decorated with all types of foods Xerxes could only dream of affording in this day and age. Moving closer to the table, reaching out his hand to grab the piece of meat he’d been eyeing since the beginning of this expedition, he saw a black leather coat hanging over some chair by the table. Redirecting his reach to the garment, assuming that it belonged to one of the soldiers, he dug through its pockets. 

He did not find much of value in the outer pockets. But in the inner pockets he discovered the true treasures. An almost empty flask, and after taking a sneaky sip, he discovered it was schnapps. Due to his circumstances, the taste of alcohol hadn’t reached his mouth for months. He put the flask on the table and continued searching through the inner pockets. 

What he found next gave him joy. He lifted out his arm with a thin silver tin between his index and middle finger. Holding it in front of his face, he opened the lid just a little to peak inside, making sure its contents would be no surprise to him later on. 

What was inside was just what he expected and more. Long, thin white cylinders, with the golden logo at the tip, stuffed with “the finest of tobacco”. A freshly filled cigarette tin of Lucky Strikes, presumably stolen from whatever town the coat’s owner had passed through previously. Indeed, a good find.

Remembering previous experiences with the Lieutenant staying in his home, Xerxes felt little guilt when fitting said finding into his own pocket. 

Just as he was about to delve his hand back into the leather coat, he was interrupted by the sudden outburst of laughter in the corridor. As the roar of laughter grew louder, the frenchman was sure he was about to come face-to-face with the men he was stealing from, if he didn’t run away this instance, that was.

In one hand, he grabbed the piece of meat in the center of the table by the string still wrapped around it, in the other, he secured his rifle. Patting the tin sitting comfortably in his pocket, he made a move for the window. 

It was a lot more of a struggle than it would have been for anyone else. Xerxes rushed to pull himself back through the window, holding on to the window sill to ready himself for landing on the ground. Just as he let go, the small pack of soldiers invaded the room. As his line of sight just about snuck into the kitchen for one last moment, he saw the leader of this pack was the Lieutenant that had been harassing his wife since he arrived in this town. 

Both feet met the ground, not to the solace of his knee. The assurance of stable footing left behind an agonising sting.

Looking at the darkness outside, Xerxes had never been more grateful for the Germans’ curfew. Praying that the Lieutenant had not recognised him, he made his escape. As he ran, as well as he could, he took a quick glance behind him. Seeing nobody was following him, he returned to his usual pace. Uneven steps carrying him forward, Xerxes let out a breath of relief. 

Not much later he made it home. His children had been tucked in hours ago, so he was careful when walking back into his house. Dropping the meat on the make-do counter in his front room, he paused for a bit, sighed and walked on. 

The floor creaked as he hobbled his way back to his bedroom. Once he made it there he snuck back under the thin blankets, wrapping his arm around his wife’s waist and hugging her closer to him. His heart skipped a beat when her form stirred, and wiggled closer into his chest as she released a satisfied “huff”. But thankfully, she did not wake up. A small smile graced his lips, before his eyelids started feeling heavy and he dozed off into a peaceful slumber. 


	5. Chapter 5

Sharon had woken up a little earlier that morning. The light of the sun was still soft, the world around her still painted with bleak colours. In an attempt to not disturb the peace within her home, Sharon took gentle steps toward the kitchen. Her journey was interrupted then. Her feet halted, her head tilted, and her eyes lowered onto the object of her curiousity. 

Seeing the scene from the couple’s bedroom opposite, Xerxes put down the old socks he was fitting around his foot. He moved towards his wife.

“Why do we have this?” she questioned softly.

“It’s fine.”

Sharon just stared silently at him for a while, a small frown formed and her brows furrowed. Her eyes looked down. Any other day she would have been ready to leave the subject be.

However, this morning, something in her had enough of watching her husband get himself into trouble.

“Xerxes…”

“Listen,” a small breath left the frenchman, “it’s fine. The krauts had some food standing around and I took the opportunity.”

Uncertainty still lingered in her gaze as it shifted in the direction of her children’s closed door.

“Sharon it’s fine! _We_ are fine. Nobody saw me. Please,” She felt his hand caress her cheek, “you don’t have to worry.”

She went to open her mouth, as to counter his statement. Any such counter was interrupted, however, by the cold, firm footsteps of their house guest. Her back faced the room’s entrance, in an attempt to hide the stolen ham from sight. The German moved in closer.

“Good Morning.” 

Silence was their only response. 

“Ignoring a guest.” that smirk, it reappeared on the Lieutenant’s face. Break loathed his mischievous expression. No matter when he saw the Lieutenant, that grin was plastered roughly on his face. It haunted him, and its mere existence built up a strange blend of fear and anger within his being which he struggled to identify. 

“No manners whatsoever,” the German continued. “You French truly are barbarians, not even a ‘hello’.”

He  made his move further into the room, smirking when he saw the block of meat and fixing his stare on Xerxes. He felt every drop of blood rushing through his veins. It wasn’t just fear, neither was it pure rage. Hate. That's what it was. An absolute loathing for the disgusting creature staying in his home.

“Have you not been informed, little frenchman? All owners of horses are required to bring them into town by 8 o’clock. As far as I am aware, it is currently,” Vincent looked at his watch, and in an agonisingly patronising tone read out, “7:45 A.M. You have a steed, do you not?” Vincent’s sadistic expression did not fade, on the contrary it became more twisted, head tilting left; slanted smile expanding ever wider. “Shouldn’t you be leaving right about now?”

Xerxes sent one last concerned look at his wife, grudgingly leaving his home.

 

***

 

It had been an hour since her husband departed. Sharon herself wasn’t really counting, focusing her attention on bushing together the piles of lavender at her feet, instead. The basket had been filled with as many bundles as it could fit, Sharon saw the job as finished and decided she was done for the day. Placing the weaved basket on the ground, Sharon made a move towards her home. Her husband hadn’t yet returned, which was expected since by foot the journey to town was at least a two-hour one.

Stepping into the kitchen she soon noticed her guest had not left as she hoped he would. Vincent, who had been sitting so innocently next to the stolen ham on the table, shifted forward. The Lieutenant had been bothering her for such a long time now, she figured she’d have become used to it. Nevertheless, every encounter was more harrowing than the last.

Vincent circled her, like a predator and she his prey. With each pace, he moved closer, and closer still.

His mouth on her earlobe, his voice low, his skeletal fingers enveloping her shoulders.

“Quite a lucky find your husband has made, hm?” He circled once more, so that they were now face to face.

“Speaking of finds, imagine my surprise when I wake up to find _no_ vase next to my bed. Quite a pity, wouldn’t you agree? Oh don’t tear up now my dear, you could always repay me another way.”

One hand reached up to her face, thumb resting on her cheek, while the other crawled eagerly down her waist. 

She could no longer see, tears block her vision. She could no longer feel, her skin was too cold. No sound reached her ear, her thundering heartbeat too deafening. She could only stand there, desperately gasping for air.

 

***

 

Break, after a walk which was really not suitable for the shoes he had now been wearing for over a year, dragged his feet into the town’s main square, his mighty steed following after. Latching onto the man he had asked for help only a night before, Break’s eyes pointed in Elliot’s direction, and he decided to make his way over.

“Have you talked to him?” Break murmured, reluctantly handing over the animal he had been caring for since birth.

There was hesitation in the reply but nonetheless, “There is an event in a few days. I will try bring up the subject then.”

Elliot handed him the money, and before Xerxes was able to make a remark about the measly amount, decided against it.

“Thank you,” he forces through his spiteful smile, before turning to make his way home. Without a horse, and a pitiful profit.

Elliot, left feeling slightly guilty for the small payment did not linger on the issue for too long, as he is quickly became distracted by the familiar face walking the down street.

The ever-familiar, small figured frenchman which Elliot had _befriended_ in recent weeks, was (as best as he could manage) carrying his weekly groceries back home. This task seemed to be requiring the man’s maximum effort, body and soul, because Elliot’s eyes followed his form for quite some time before Leo realised he was being observed. When he did, however, he was graced with a soft smile and silent:

“See you later?”

A small nod, but a definitive yes.

 

***

 

Xerxes entered his home without a welcome, initially he thought nothing of it. Sharon was most likely still in the barn caring for the animals.

Yet, when his eyes scanned the room, he found his wife, almost mechanically, stirring a pot of soup. All attempts of socialising seemed to receive little to no reply. She looked tired, so he gave her a small kiss on the side of her face and let her be. Xerxes headed to the bedroom instead to go to sleep for the day, taking a second glance at the empty space on their night table.

“Hey, didn’t we have a vase here?”

No reply. Xerxes was confused, but it bothered him too little to not fall onto the bed and doze off a few minutes later.

 

***

 

The skies were darkening, Leo had been sitting home waiting for quite a while. While Madame was still out collecting rents. The collection of horses in the town centre interfered with her usual timing, and the new Parisian visitors, which added to her list of tenants, didn’t help much either. Thereby, she decided to leave significantly later than usual.

More importantly, however, this also meant that the house would be empty until, what would probably turn out to be, the next morning.

The boredom of an empty house nagged at Leo’s bones, and so he made his way towards the piano. While Leo’s brain had an endless library of sonatas and concertos, there seemed to be only one piece his hands were willing to play. And so, as Elliot came home and followed a similar path upstairs, he was met with the familiar melody of the composition he’d been slaving away at since he was stationed in France.

For a moment, Elliot debated simply standing at the doorway and watching Leo play piano all night. He came to the conclusion that, while he’d be perfectly happy doing so, it would most likely not be the best way to spend their limited alone time together. Regrettably, Elliot interrupted the man at the piano.

“Hello.”

“Good evening.”

“You play beautifully,”

“You’ve composed a beautiful piece.”

Noting the empty house, Elliot questioned the whereabouts of Leo’s mother-in-law.

“She’ll be out for a while. Still collecting rent, you see. Probably won’t be home before curfew.”

“Oh, really?” 

“Yes, really.” 

An amused huff passed Elliot’s lips then, it seemed he’d have a chance to get to know the frenchman better after all. Despite this opportunity, for a long time, both stayed silent. Elliot struggled, trying to find the right words, but as he did it became apparent words were not needed in this moment. Instead, he chose simply to sit next to Leo at the piano. 

Elliot now placed himself on the empty half of the seat, leather crunching underneath his form. He looked over to his side, and realised the little space now between them. 

The space soon grew smaller when Elliot’s delicate fingertips began to entangle into the locks of Leo’s hair. While still hesitant, Leo was first to move forward. 

His lips were as tender as the Lieutenant had dreamed they would be, it was as if silk brushed  against his face. 

The moonlight peaking through the window, they reluctantly parted. If they looked around, it is likely they would not be able to recognise a single form, the room around them completely cast in shadow. 

This made no difference to Leo, nor did Elliot even take into consideration there were other things around them. There was only one person they needed to see. Never had either of them looked upon a creature with such pure adoration. 

“I love you too.”

 


End file.
